Don'T Tell Me About It I Already Know

Don't tell me about it I already know That money on bushes and trees does not grow Yet of it some do have far more than enough Whilst millions of poor people are doing it tough. The unequal distribution of wealth seems humanity's shame For every millionaire hundreds without a penny to their name Homeless and hungry on poverty street They hardly would know of the taste of good meat. So many of life's opportunities denied Their circumstance of birth their future's for them decide Of their lives of poverty of varying degrees In the refugee camps millions of refugees. Don't tell me about it I know all too well That millions are living in their earthly hell Money breeds inequality doesn't that seem unfair It is a rat race in the big World out there.